


Sweet Talk

by cxrsedfaerie



Category: Better Call Saul (TV), Breaking Bad
Genre: Con Artists, F/M, I don't know what I'm doing, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn, and uhh... drugs, but there aren't any Domingo fics out there, so I thought I'd write one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 10:13:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23849488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cxrsedfaerie/pseuds/cxrsedfaerie
Summary: June Belmont is trying to clean up her life. Having just graduated high school, she plans to start college at UNM in the fall. Until then she just wants to enjoy a nice, relaxing summer. But when her friend Emilio starts dealing drugs, she finds herself pulled back into the dangerous life of lies she promised to leave behind. Worst of all, she can't seem to avoid his cousin Domingo--and she's not sure if she even wants to.This fic is gonna be on hiatus for at least a couple more months. Between college applications, my senior project, and a few other creative projects, I’m really spread thin right now. I might come back to it when season 6 of BCS comes out, but for right now I don’t have the time or energy. Sorry to disappoint 😰
Relationships: Domingo “Krazy-8” Molina/Original Character(s), Domingo “Krazy-8” Molina/Original Female Character(s), Domingo “Krazy-8” Molina/Reader
Comments: 17
Kudos: 9





	1. Milkshakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June and her friends go out for the night, but June falls prey to old habits. Emilio shares some concerning news.

“You’re going down, bitch,” Jesse muttered, his eyes glued to the screen. 

“Hell nah,” Emilio replied. 

June was in the perfect spot to watch this tense confrontation. She was sitting on Emilio’s bed, curled up in his plaid comforter. The two boys sat on pillows on the floor watching their Smash characters dance around the screen. Jesse’s Fox was battling it out with Emilio’s Captain Falcon. The guys had made fun of June for playing Princess Peach last round, but stopped when she was done whooping Jesse’s ass. She smiled gloatingly as she sat on the bed, waiting for her next challenger. Captain Falcon was taking a visible beating. This was gonna be brutal. The outcome was expected; they’d done this a hundred times. Deciding she didn’t want to hear Jesse’s victory taunts, she got up off the bed.

“I’m gonna get some snacks, do you guys want anything?” Her question went unanswered for a moment, both guys careful not to break their concentration. Finally Jesse replied. 

“Funyuns would be good.” Emilio just nodded.

“Cool cool.”

She wandered down the stairs of the house she knew so well. By going left at the staircase, she could cut through the dining room and not run into any of the adults in the house. Well, any of the real adults. Emilio was still 17, and her and Jesse didn’t really count. Passing through the dining room, she noticed most of the plates were still out. Emilio’s family rarely ate at the table unless they were having a big family dinner, like they had tonight. His extended family was visiting as they did every so often. She could hear them speaking softly in the living room. Cautiously, she peered around from the dining room to take in the scene. Emilio’s parents were sitting on the sofa, along with Mr. and Mrs. Molina and a few more relatives June didn’t recognize. _Huh,_ she thought. _One person is missing._ The person she always kept an eye out for.

In any case, it was really no concern of hers. She spotted the Funyuns on the top shelf of the pantry. It was like Mrs. Koyama thought that if she put them high enough the kids wouldn’t eat them. Still, she wished one of the guys was here in her place. With the wit of fox, June evaluated the problem. Should she scale the cabinet wall? No, she didn’t want to break anything. Stand on a box? None in sight. Her eyes latched on to a broom on the side of the closet. _Perfect._

Cautiously, she lifted one end of it up to the bag. The broom swayed in her grip. Almost there… bingo! She caught the bag as it fell, and then looked around to see if she had made too much noise. The adults didn’t seem to notice. She almost went back upstairs, until she noticed a familiar figure through the sliding glass door. He was sitting out on the porch, his back to her. She tiptoed to the door and went out to join him. 

Sitting under the faint yellow porch lights was Domingo Molina. He gave her an inquisitive glance as she sat down next to him. Now that she was closer, she could see the joint in his hand and the faint smoke trail it released into the night. 

“What’s up?” he asked.

“That’s what I was wondering. Sick of family time?” She laughed nervously. He smiled.

“Nah, I’m just thinking.” 

“About what?” June asked, and then regretted it. They had never been super close, and she didn’t want to pry.

He was silent for a moment. “I had kind of a rough day at work.” June didn’t pry this time, and let him fill in the silence by himself. “We were short-staffed, so I had to hire a new guy.”

“And what? You don’t think he’s capable?”

“That’s not it…” He trailed off, taking another hit. His eyebrows were furrowed, and it may have been a trick of the light, but he looked almost… guilty? That didn’t make any sense. June didn’t address it, instead staring up at the almost full moon. 

“Hey, don’t you think the moon looks like a face?” she asked. 

“What?” Domingo laughed. 

“Yeah, and a really wonky one at that.” She squeezed one of her eyes closed to try and replicate the face, which only made him laugh harder. 

“You’re right. I can see it.” As his laughter died out, his attention was brought back to the joint in his hand. “Do you want a hit?” 

Her stomach flipped in nervousness. Why? She smoked weed all the time. But somehow it felt different, sharing a joint with a man under the light of the misshapen moon. Her hand shook a little as she reached for it. “Thanks,” she muttered. 

She relaxed a little as she inhaled, and then passed it back. Domingo immediately took another. “It tastes like mint now,” he chuckled. She laughed too, and she wasn’t sure if it was really funny or just the marijuana working its magic. 

“My lip balm,” she replied. “Since we’re sharing things, want a Funyun?” 

“Nah, those are kid’s snacks. Besides, I’m trying to stay in shape.” He gestured to his body like he was showing off a new motorboat.

“Yeah, okay.” She grinned. “I’ve gotta get going. Jesse’s definitely won the round by now.” She paused for a minute, before making the bold decision to put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t get too down in the dumps, okay?” 

“Whatever you say.” His smile faded as she stepped back inside.

  
  


The first thing she heard when she re-entered the bedroom was Jesse’s whining. “Were the Funyuns in Canada?”

“No, but they ran away when I tried to catch them.” She smiled, but her mind was still somewhere else.

“Well you missed my epic victory speech.”

“I’m sure it was the same as last time.” She settled down on the bed and popped open the bag. “Hey Emilio, I’ve been wondering… where does Domingo work?”

He furrowed his brow at the sudden change of topic. “Um… Tampico. That furniture store on Menaul. His dad owns the place.”

“Oh.” _That didn’t explain his expression,_ she thought. Why would he feel guilty about hiring more people at a furniture store? Was he embarrassed he couldn’t move everything by himself? She snapped out of her trance when she noticed Jesse nudging Emilio suggestively. 

“Speaking of new jobs… you wanna tell her?”

Emilio brushed him off. “Nah, let’s wait until the whole gang is here.” 

“Ah, Sash,” said June. “Wonder what she’s up to.” At that moment, all three of their phones buzzed. Jesse was the first to check his.

_4 Musketrs Group Chat_

_Sasha: Yo come pick me up… I’m bored :C_

“Freaky how she does that. It’s like she’s a mind reader of something.” Jesse shuddered. His phone buzzed again as June sent her reply.

_4 Musketrs Group Chat_

_June: On our way, see u in 15_

“I’ll go start the car,” Emilio said. He and Jesse both had cars, and Sasha had her motorbike. June was the only one stuck with a pitiful little bicycle. She tried not to dwell on that as she grabbed her stuff and got ready to go. Fifteen minutes later, they turned the corner onto Sasha’s street. The car pulled to stop a block away from her house. They crept towards it, avoiding the porch lights of her neighbors. Her house was the one with a second story bedroom window open. They jumped the fence and were waiting in her yard when a pink head popped out the window. 

“Hey,” she whisper-shouted. “Let me just get my things.” She disappeared and reappeared a moment later, her pink bob poking out the window. The hair was a recent development, but the Green Day t-shirts and miniskirts were not. June had always thought she looked more like a rockstar than a teenager. 

June stood under the window and extended her arms. “Jump. I’ll catch you.”

Sasha snorted. “I’ll crush you. One of you dudes, get over here.” June looked to Emilio. He was much more muscular than Jesse. Still, Jesse cut in front of him as he tried to approach, taking June’s place under the window. 

“I’ve got you,” he said.

“You sure?” She raised a brow.

“Just jump.” She took a deep breath and leapt. Jesse wobbled beneath the sudden weight, but to his credit, he didn’t drop her. 

“Nice catch.” She winked. “Okay, now put me down.” 

He obliged, and they began the stealthy walk back to the car, ready for a night of mischief.

  
  
  


It was about eleven when they pulled into the parking lot of the Dog House. They ordered their food and picked a table barely illuminated by the fluorescent lights. Jesse and Emilio sat on one bench, Sasha and June on the other. 

“Ew, why would you ask for so much relish?” Sasha scrunched her nose in disgust.

“It’s good, yo!” said Jesse. They had each gotten hot dogs except June, who was content to eat the fries off Sasha’s plate. There weren’t many options for vegetarians at hot dog joints. “More importantly, dude, do you wanna tell them the big news?” He nudged Emilio with his shoulder.

“What big news?” Sasha interrupted.

Emilio looked to Jesse, who was giving him an eager nod. “I got a job,” he said.

“Not just any job,” Jesse cut in. “A really _cool_ job. With lots of _perks_.”

June raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Emilio reached into his pocket and placed a little baggie of white powder on the table. June jolted away immediately. 

“Oh my god. Is that… cocaine?” she asked, barely a whisper.

“Yeah.” Emilio was grinning now, the same stupid grin as Jesse.

Sasha recovered before June could. “So your new job is drugs? That’s so stupid.”

“What do you mean? I’m making fat stacks, and I’ve got easy access to a bunch of shit. We could try anything we want!”

She considered that for a moment. “Well that’s pretty cool, I guess. But you’ll be safe right?”

“Sure.” He looked to June, who still seemed lost in thought. “June?”

“How did this even happen? I mean, how did you get into dealing drugs?”

He brushed her off with a wave. “I, uh, knew a guy. It doesn’t matter. This is gonna be rad, okay?”

June hesitantly nodded, though she wasn’t entirely convinced. The night seemed to be bad news on all ends. Just as she was going back to her fries, she heard Emilio swear under his breath. She followed his gaze to a sports car pulling into the lot. The two men that got out wore tank tops and gaudy chains.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“See that guy? The big one with the shaved head?” They nodded. “He’s a total dick.” 

June looked him over and shuddered. “Is he one of your new… associates?”

“Yeah, we work for the same guy. He was ‘showing me the ropes’ yesterday and he kept calling me ‘kid’ and shit. But he just sat there and made me do all the work. And then he took all my cash! Said I was paying him back for the lesson.”

“That’s so lame, yo. How much do you think he took?” Jesse asked.

“I dunno… maybe two-fifty?”

Jesse sat straight up. “He took two hundred and fifty dollars of your money?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, we gotta get it back.” He spoke quickly, but his mind was still catching up. He seemed to reach some conclusion and smiled. “Luckly, I know just the person.”

“No.” June cut him off. All their eyes were on her now. “No. I’m not pulling anything. That guy looks fucking scary, And he deals drugs.”

“Please…” Jesse begged. “You’re the expert. Think of all the fun we could have with an extra two-fifty.”

Emilio saw the opportunity and jumped in. “Yeah, do one of your embarrassing ones. Put him in his place.”

“I don’t know. What if he goes after you or something? This doesn’t seem like such a good idea.”

“Please June?” Emilio gave her a puppy dog look. “We’ll wait in the car, he won’t even know we’re here. And I’ll buy everyone milkshakes with the profits.” Sasha got visibly excited at the thought of milkshakes, and with her and Emilio’s combined pressure, June caved. 

“Alright. Get out of here.”

“Yes!” Jesse gave her a high five. 

June watched as they all loaded into Emilio’s car and parked further down the street. It was just her now, and she was starting to regret giving in so easily. The two men were sitting on the hood of their car, drinking beers and occasionally slipping product to customers who passed by. Beer, that was a good starting place. Almost everyone here seemed to be drinking. A couple benches down was a group of skells with a six pack. She made her way over to them. At first they didn’t even notice her, they were too busy laughing at some joke she hadn’t heard. She stood over them until the raucous laughter died out.

“What do you want?”

“I’ll give you five dollars for one of those beers.”

“Pshhh. Ten.”

“Sure.” 

She didn’t have time to argue, and she knew the payoff would be worth it. Sighing, she forked over ten dollars. Now the game begins. Hesitantly, she approached the two dealers leaning against the hood of their car. The bigger man with the shaved head looked her over.

“What can I do for ya, sweetheart?”

“Oh um… it’s a little embarrassing,” she twirled a strand of golden hair around her finger. “I forgot my bottle opener at home and I can’t get this open. I don’t suppose one of you could help me?” 

The man smiled and extended his hand. She timidly gave him the bottle, and made sure to display her awe when he twisted off the cap. 

“Wow, thank you so much! I can’t believe you got it off so easily.”

“It’s nothin’ babe.” He leaned back further on the hood, placing his arms behind him to support his weight--and conveniently show off the tautness of his muscles. She let her gaze linger a little too long. No more timidness. Now was the time to be bold. She joined him on the hood of his car, leaning close enough to smell his cologne. Her fingers ran up his forearm.

“Do you wanna make a bet with me?” He leaned in, and she knew she had him. 

“What kind of bet?”

She gave him a teasing grin. “I bet… you can’t do twenty pushups with me on your back.”

“And if I win?” She could feel his breath on her neck.

“Well I’d hate to spoil the surprise.”

The man flashed a cocky smile at the other dealer, as if he knew exactly where this was leading. Then he dropped to ground in perfect pushup form. She made him hold it for a moment, examining him, before sitting down on his back with her legs crossed. He didn’t even flinch beneath her weight. “One. Two. Three.” He began to count. At ten, she let one hand trail lazily up his leg. At fifteen, she slid her hand into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. She hid it in her lap as she pulled out bills, her back turned away from the leering gaze of the other dealer.

“Having fun up there?” the man asked. June froze. Had she been caught? She took a breath and settled her nerves. She’d have to play it off. Sweeping her hand over the pockets of his jeans again, she slid the wallet back in his pocket. 

“Of course.” She smacked him on the ass just to make it a little more believable. 

“That’s twenty.” He stopped and she got up, tucking the bills safely in the pockets of her shorts. “And I’d say you got more than just a free show.”

She sat back on the hood of his car. He leaned in closer and rested his hands on the car, one on either side of her body. “You see that man over there?” she whispered, and pointed to one of the skells who had sold her the beer. “That’s my boyfriend. And he won’t like it if I leave with another man.” He hummed in response. “But… if you were to meet me at that motel down the street, room 202, in… let’s say a half an hour, he wouldn’t be around to stop us.”

She gave him her most charming smile, showing off her white teeth. His eyes drifted over her lips, but he finally pulled away, letting her off the hood. 

“See you in thirty.”

“See ya.” 

She walked back to the service counter, as if she was going to order another hot dog, and then pulled around the corner of the building. Down the street she could see Emilio’s car. When she reached it, out of breath, she could hear laughter through the cracked window. She opened a door and stumbled into the backseat, intoxicated with the rush of her latest con. 

“Oh my god. Oh my god.”

“Did you get it?” Jesse asked. She fished the bills out of her pocket and handed them to him. He counted them quickly, then recounted.

“Holy shit… there’s five hundred dollars here.” 

“Really?” June hadn’t meant to take that much, but she’d been panicking. She looked to Emilio, who was grinning with glee in the driver’s seat. “Guess you’d better buy us a lot of milkshakes then.”

Sasha, who had been quiet this whole time, suddenly threw her arms around June. “All hail the goddess of sugar and crime.”

“Oh, you just want your free shake, don’t you?” she said, returning the hug.

“Yep.”

  
  


Twenty minutes later they all had milkshakes. June pulled a pen out of Emilio’s glovebox and scrawled something on her napkin. 

“Hey guys, I want to stop at that motel around the corner real quick. I have something to drop off.”

She read the message one last time. 

_It’s not nice to stiff other dealers… so you’re paying for our drinks tonight! Check your wallet :)_

She folded the napkin in half and tucked it under the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, thanks for reading! This is my first time posting so I'm a little nervous about it. I thought I'd write something for Domingo because he doesn't get enough love.
> 
> Just to clarify--the drug dealer with the shaved head is not Nacho! He's that guy who stiffed Domingo in like season 3, and Nacho ripped his earring off. Does he have a name? I couldn't find one so I might just make one up.
> 
> Anyway, I'll try to post again soon. If you have any suggestions for me, let me know! I'd love to hear what you thought of this chapter :)


	2. Tampico

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June heads to Tampico to investigate Domingo's odd behavior and discovers a shocking truth.

The bright beams of Albuquerque’s early sun roused June from sleep. Her hair, which had been wet after her shower the previous night, clung to the pillow, and she had to peel herself off as she reached for her phone. What had she been doing last night? Video games, marijuana… the memories trickled in slowly and then hit her in a rush. Emilio pulling out a baggie of cocaine. Sliding her fingers into the pocket of a gangster. That stupid, gloating note she tucked under the motel door. Oh god. _Oh god._ How could she be such an idiot?

The note pointed back to Emilio like a big red arrow, saying “I stole five hundred bucks from you, come get me!” She buried her head in her pillow and groaned. This wasn’t the first time she’d woken up confused and full of regret. It was something about Jesse’s begging, Sasha’s encouraging smile, and Emilio’s perfect bribes. She tried to be good, and to correct the path she’d started down years ago. But under their pressure, she caved.

She was starting school in the fall, and though Emilio and Jesse weren’t planning on going to college, she had the whole summer to convince them. They could all be clean together. She sighed into her pillow. It was a nice dream, but it was never going to happen. The events of the previous night made that painfully obvious. 

Her phone screen showed no new notifications, but that didn’t stop the sense of worry that was bubbling up inside her. She dialed Emilio’s number. He picked up after the fourth ring, muttering a bleary “Hello?”

“Hey. Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

She paused. “I just thought, after last night… I’m sorry I put you in danger.”

He was quiet for a moment, as if he was trying to figure out what that even meant. “Danger? Oh, that. It’s fine, he’s not gonna bump me off, if that’s what you mean.”

“How do you know?”

“Just trust me, the boss wouldn’t be happy.” He didn’t elaborate.

“Okay, if you say so. But if you feel like you’re in danger at all, or anything happens, call me.”

He chuckled. “Okay mom.”

Some of her doubts were eased, although she wasn’t entirely sure why. Maybe it was his casual attitude, like he was completely safe. That was the funny thing about Emilio: he always acted so confident, even when he had no reason to be. Still, she couldn’t wrap her head around his limited explanation. Clearly, there was something he wasn’t letting on. 

It seemed to June that everyone was full of secrets. First Domingo’s mysterious guilt, then Emilio’s dangerous new job. The rational side of her said to ignore it, but as usual, that side was stuffed in a shoebox in her mind and promptly ignored. She was a cat, and secrets were the ball of yarn she played with, gradually making a tangled mess. But honestly, what else did she have to do?

She didn’t have work today. Ray was quick to claim the weekend shifts, and the old guy probably needed them more than her. So instead, she went to her closet to pick an outfit. Inside were rows of prints in a disjointed collection of styles. She didn’t really have a typical look, rather she just picked something based on who she wanted to be that day. The first outfit she saw looked like it belonged to a Portland hippie. The next one said slutty English teacher. Art museum curator. Skater kid. Cliche American tourist. Finally she picked one that seemed relatively innocuous. She settled on a strappy white top with small yellow flowers and a pair of green shorts. _This one says, ‘good girl’._ She smirked. _And when have I ever been anything else?_

She changed into the outfit, brushed her teeth, and pulled a comb through her long blonde hair. Her reflection gazed back at her, and she examined her grey-green eyes in the light. She had always thought they looked introspective, but Sasha said they just made her look perpetually sad. The thought made her chuckle. June wasn’t a vain person, but there was one feature of her appearance she really liked: her teeth. They weren’t perfect; one of her front teeth had a chip from face-planting into cement when she first learned to ride a bike. But they were remarkably white. She gave her reflection an incandescent smile. Okay, time to play detective.

Emilio was barely awake when she called, so he probably wasn’t doing anything interesting. Instead, she decided to focus on Domingo. She put on her sneakers and made her way to the garage. Her mom’s car wasn’t there, which made it a lot easier to get her bike down. Thankfully, she also wasn’t there to insist June wear a helmet. The little blue bicycle was embarrassing enough. She rode out into the driveway and began the trek to Tampico. 

By the time she arrived, she was covered in sweat. It was noon in Albuquerque and the temperature was pushing ninety. She dabbed her face on her shirt and rolled her bike around to the side of the building, where it was less likely to be seen. Then, she entered the store.

The sudden burst of cool air almost made her knees buckle. _Thank God for AC._ The store was bigger than she expected; not IKEA big, but not just a mom-and-pop shop. The Molinas had been doing well for themselves. Maybe that awful jingle from their tv ads actually worked. She perused the aisles for a minute, keeping an eye out for Domingo. Finally she spotted him by the bedframes. Some of them were set up and on display, but most of them were standing up in big boxes, which gave her some cover as she got closer. He was wearing tan khakis with his green Tampico shirt tucked in. _Aw, he looks so pure,_ she thought, and immediately realized that was a weird thing to think about a grown man. She put the thought aside and was about to approach him when she heard a bell ring and the Tampico doors opened again. _No fucking way._ She ducked back behind the boxes of bedframes. _Why was he here?_

Her mouth had gone dry, and she peeked around the boxes again, just to check if her eyes had deceived her. They hadn’t. A muscled man, decked out in shiny boots and gold chains, had just entered the store. It was the same man she stole five hundred dollars from the night prior. Briefly, June wondered if he was there to buy furniture. But then he made his way across the store to where she was hidden, and she squeezed her eyes shut, only to hear Domingo’s breath hitch a couple boxes to her left. 

“Blingy? Why are you here, drop off isn’t until later tonight,” she heard Domingo whisper. The panic was evident in the rushed murmur of his voice. 

“Hey, chillax man. I’m busy tonight. My girl wants me to take her to some thing…” He trailed off. “Anyway, thought I’d just drop the cash off early.”

“Early? What am I supposed to do with it, just shove it in a desk somewhere?” He took a deep breath, and when he spoke again his voice was steadier. “You were supposed to wait until I got off work. Hand it to me and get out of here, before the other employees get suspicious.”

June heard the rustling of clothes as presumably a package was exchanged. She shrunk down to sit behind the boxes, trying to think. _That drug dealer, “Blingy”, was giving cash to Domingo? “Drop off isn’t until later tonight”?_ Suddenly, it all made sense. Details fit together in her mind like puzzle pieces, even as she tried to shut them out. _Blingy and Emilio both deal for the same supplier. A supplier who would be mad if Blingy lashed out against Emilio. The guilt on Domingo’s face as he smoked with her on the porch. Emilio’s new job._

Emilio was dealing for Domingo. Domingo was the supplier.

The bell rang again, and June opened her eyes just in time to see Blingy’s back as he left the store. She heard the shuffle of boots on her left. “I’m going on lunch break,” Domingo called. June rose to her feet. She had to catch him on his way out. Yell at him, maybe. Make this make sense. The rational part of her mind begged her to think, but she shut it out. All she could focus on was Emilio. How could he put his own cousin in danger like this? She could hear the pounding of her heartbeat in her ears. Just as she was getting ready to storm up to him, the bell rang again. She followed him to the door, trying not to outright sprint, but by the time she got to the store’s entrance he was already at his car. A minute later and he was gone. There would be no tailing him on her little bike, and she realized that was probably for the best. What would she even say? _I know you’re a drug dealer, and you shouldn’t be because… it’s bad?_ She shook her head, letting her hair fling about wildly and express the frustration she felt.

If Domingo wouldn’t protect his cousin, she would. She scrambled around the side of the building to find where her bike lay in the dust. As she propped it upright, she called Emilio.

“Again? You’re really worried about me, huh?” She heard him chuckle through the phone, but she wasn’t in the mood to laugh.

“Yeah, I am. Are you dealing tonight?”

“Yep. But don’t worry, I’ll be on my own tonight. Blingy, that’s the guy from last night, he won’t be there.” Little did Emilio know she already knew the dealer’s name. What kind of stupic fucking name was Blingy, anyways?

“Still… can I come with you?”

He hesitated. “Sure, I guess. But you’re gonna need to dress like a dealer. Or a dealer’s girl. Something chill, you know?” He added the last part in quickly.

“Okay.”

“I’ll pick you up at 10.”

“See you then.”

The rest of her day was pretty uneventful. She wasted a few hours on the internet looking at weird shit on eBay. Some of the things she found gave her ideas to make some quick cash. _I wonder if I can sell Mom’s weird cat statue as “abstract art”… No! Must not take advantage of these suckers._ Really, she was just trying to distract herself from her upcoming task. But the analog clock on the desk ticked mercilessly, and soon it was dinner time. She dragged herself out of the family office and down the hall to suffer through her Mom’s spinach lasagna. 

“What’s wrong honey? You don’t seem very talkative today,” she said.

In truth, June didn’t really feel like talking. The thought of selling drugs with Emilio scared her to death. Instead she replied, “There’s spinach in this.”

“Vegetarians have to get their iron somehow.”

“Mhmm.”

When she finally finished her plate, she noticed it was almost time to go. June headed to her closet to find what Emilio might consider “drug dealer clothes”. She settled on a pair of black jeans, a flannel, and a cheap graphic tee of an album cover that Jesse had given her. Looking at it closely, it was supposedly the mixtape of someone named Skinny Pete. She briefly wondered if his mixtape was any good. As she was applying a coat of red lipstick, her phone buzzed.

_ Direct Messages — Emilio _

_Emilio: I’m out front._

After saying a quick goodbye to her mom, she met him out in the driveway. He turned the radio off as she got into the car.

“You don’t have to do this, you know. I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah, I know.” She gave him a small smile. “Just thought maybe you’d like some company.”

Whatever her reason was, she found herself in the parking lot of a dimly lit bowling alley twenty minutes later. The neon sign flickering above said “Mick’s”. 

“This is where you sell drugs?” She laughed. “We used to come here all the time.”

“You bet. C’mon, let’s play a round.” He put a hand around her waist and escorted her through the glass doors. They stopped at the shoe counter where a large, balding man was stacking shoes of different sizes. He raised an eyebrow when he saw them.

“Size 10,” Emilio said.

“And for the lady?”

“Eight,” June supplied.

He set the shoes on the counter, but oddly made no move to ring them up. The man looked between them, before leaning in to whisper, “I suppose you’ll be wanting the last two lanes, right?” Emilio just nodded. He slid them the shoes and Emilio gave the man a twenty out of his pocket.

“This way,” he said, leading June past the first couple of lanes. As she walked along, she realized something weird, something she had felt earlier but just couldn’t put a finger on. The strange thing was that the place was almost empty. She remembered coming to this place as a kid, and it was always full of children, running and screaming. It was the hot place for birthday parties. But things must have changed in the last ten years or so, because the paint was all faded and the only noises she heard were the eighties music playing over the stereo and the squeaky voices of the animated bowling balls on the overhead screens. A couple families were there, but their presence decreased as Emilio led her past more and more empty lanes. Finally, they reached the last two lanes in the alley, 14 and 15. While the lights above the other lanes were flickering, these ones had completely gone out. The only came from the neon strips at the end of the lane and the dancing pins on the screen above. Other than that, they were concealed in the darkness.

“Wow. This is… creepy,” June muttered. “People buy drugs here?”

“Yep.” He pointed to a door to her right labelled ‘Fire Exit’. “That’s where they come in.”

“Cool. When do you think we’ll get our first customer?”

Just as she said that, the door opened. A thin man in a big puffy jacket entered. Since she was standing closest to the door, the man approached her first.

“Hey.” He shuddered, and she couldn’t tell if he was nervous or just cold. “Can I get, uh, two eights?” She chuckled and pointed at Emilio. _I guess the ‘drug dealer clothes’ are convincing._

The man approached Emilio and tried again, and then pulled a wad of cash out of his jacket pocket. Emilio took two small baggies out of his sweatpants and they swapped them quickly. Once Emilio finished counting, he gave the man a nod. The man wasted no time bolting for the exit. 

“Are they always this jumpy?” June asked.

“Pretty much,” he answered truthfully.

They bowled a couple rounds while they waited for more junkies, but traffic was slow. Maybe that was intentional, since Emilio was a new dealer. About a dozen more people came in before they ran out of product. According to June’s phone, it was almost 1:30 in the morning. If the bowling alley was the same as she remembered it, they would begin kicking people out at two.

“Do you wanna play one more round before we go?” Emilio offered.

“Sure.” She nodded.

They reset the screen one more time, and Emilio picked up his ball. He was making his way to the lane when his phone buzzed, and he stopped mid-swing to pull it out of his pocket. 

“Are you kidding me…” he groaned. Setting the ball back down on the rack, he made for the side exit.

“What’s up?” June asked, following him to the door. He paused at the handle.

“My guy’s here with more product. Says I need to keep working ‘cause we’re behind schedule.” Emilio opened the door to the cool night air, and June could see a car parked by the side of the building. “Maybe you should stay here.” She rolled her eyes at him and followed him out the side exit. He made no move to stop her.

Parked in the side lot was an old Toyota Corolla with a faded red paint job. Although June could guess who was inside it, she never thought he would drive such a hideous car. _What’s the point of selling drugs if you have to drive around in something like that?_ Emilio jogged down the ramp and into the parking lot, stopping at the driver’s side window. June chose to hang back for a second, watching as a familiar Tampico employee got out of the car. He leaned against the side of it and spoke in hushed tones, before giving Emilio a handful of something June couldn’t see. She decided to get closer and ran down the ramp to join them. 

“Hey,” she said, casually resting an arm on Emilio’s shoulder. Domingo’s eyes widened, and he shoved something back into his pocket. When he finally addressed her, his voice came out hoarse.

“Hey June. We were just…”

“I know.” He stiffened, and looked down at the pavement. For an instant she thought she could see a familiar guilt on his face. Ultimately, he must have decided there was nothing else he could say, because he waved a hand at Emilio and then got back in his car. 

“Alright, well… see you around,” he said. Emilio began walking back toward the building as the engine sputtered to life. He was almost at the side door when June put her hand on the car’s open window.

“Wait.”

Domingo looked at her nervously, the car still running. “What?”

She paused for a moment, mulling over her thoughts. Her reaction at Tampico was pure anger, but she’d planned her words deliberately since then. If she was going to confront him, she wanted to do it right.

“I guess I understand your predicament now. Turn the car off, let’s talk.” He hesitated for a moment, but then turned the keys. The car fell silent. From across the lot, Emilio turned to look back at them. June brushed him off with a dismissive wave, and though he looked confused, he went back inside. Then she pulled up to the passenger’s side and let herself in. 

“Drugs, huh? I gotta say, I’m confused.” She swept her hand over the dashboard dramatically. “Why isn’t this a Ferrari or something?” He smiled, but it lacked warmth.

“I’m not doing _that_ well,” he replied.

“I see. You did say you needed an extra hand.” She was quiet for a minute as she thought about her next words. His breaths were short and unsteady, and honestly, it kind of bothered her. She wasn’t in the mood to be sympathetic. Her voice came out cold.

“You must really be heartless.”

He sputtered like his ancient car. “I--What?”

“Pulling your cousin into this? Really?” She turned on him now, physically turned, and stared him down with a predatory gaze. “You should have seen that idiot, smiling like he just got the best job in the world. It’s all fast cash and free shit to him. But that’s not really what the job is, is it? You’re drowning, and you’re pulling him down with you.” She expected the words to hurt him, to play off his guilt. But she didn’t expect it when the guilt in his eyes sparked into anger.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. Of course I regret it, but I had no other choice. You have no idea what it’s like to be backed into a corner like this.” She deflated a little at that, unwanted sympathy nagging at her mind.

“Yes, I do.” When she turned to look at him again she noticed his hands were shaking. She tried to speak softly. “You need to protect him. If he’s in this now, you’re responsible for making sure he doesn’t get hurt. I’m gonna hold you accountable.” 

He couldn’t seem to look her in the eyes, but he nodded and placed his hands back on the wheel. Figuring he’d gotten the message, June took that as her cue to get out. She started for the ramp, but then paused and leaned in his window again. 

“Oh, and that guy from the furniture store… Blingy, right? You really gotta lay down the law there. Boss’s orders should be a higher priority than date night.” She turned away then, and though she couldn’t see his face, he must’ve been pretty astonished because by the time she heard the car start, she’d reached the very top of the ramp and was already pulling open the door.

“Hey,” Emilio greeted her as she stepped back into the dimly lit bowling alley. “What were you doing out there?”

“Nothing. Just asking him where he gets his kush.”

“Damn, I’d kill for some right now. I’d suggest we take a break to get some beers or something, but there’s no time. We gotta sell all of this tonight.” He turned out his pockets and she glimpsed dozens of new baggies inside. She cursed Domingo in her head. 

“Well, this place is about to close. Do you know any other sketchy hangouts?” 

He looked surprised, maybe by the observation or maybe by the fact that she even wanted to come with. “Sure. Let’s get out of here.”

So they spent the whole night on the town, driving and dealing, until the warm Albuquerque sun rose behind the hills to cast light on their crimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a week late, I'm sorry 😰 I had it written last weekend but wasn't able to edit it until tonight. But I was really amazed by all the love the last chapter got! I honestly wasn't expecting anyone to read it. Not sure when I'll be able to post the next chapter; with end of the year tests, quarantine, and the fact that I'm about to move across the country, things are pretty overwhelming right now. But rest assured it is coming. Thanks for reading!


	3. Anything for a Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emilio calls June after a violent altercation.

It was a lazy Tuesday morning in early June, and June, like her namesake, was in no rush. She sat on the couch, looking out the window with a bowl of cereal in her lap, despite the fact that it was already 10 AM. With no work and no plans for the day, she was content to just take things slow. A movie marathon with her friends the night before had led to a late night crash, and she’d barely gotten them out the door before she fell asleep on the couch. It would’ve been a perfect night, except for the fact that one member of their tight-knit group was missing. Emilio had bailed on a lot of movie nights recently. She understood, of course--night was prime dealing time. She had gone with him for the first couple shifts, but it had been weeks since that night at the bowling alley, and her mother had begun questioning where she went and why she was out so late. Still, Emilio’s confidence was unfaltering. He had reassured her weeks ago that he would be fine on his own. 

She turned back to the window and pushed away her anxious thoughts. If she didn’t eat her cereal now, it was going to get soggy. Just as she was reaching for the spoon, she felt a vibration in the pocket of her pajama shorts. She set the bowl down in a huff and grabbed her phone, freezing when she saw the screen light up with Emilio’s contact. Flipping it open, she answered with a quick, “Hello?”

The other end was silent for a moment, apart from someone’s heavy breathing. Then she heard a faint, “Hey, June.”

“Emilio? Hey, are you okay? What’s wrong?” 

“I uh… I got jumped last night,” he replied cautiously, waiting for her to react.

“Holy shit. Are you okay? Where are you?” She quickly crossed the room and dumped the cereal into the sink, not even flinching at the loud clang that followed. Her feet were leading her to her bedroom at rapid speed, and she held the phone pressed between her shoulder and her ear as she stripped off her pajamas. 

“I’m in my car,” he muttered as she pulled on a pair of sweatpants and an old UCLA tee, the first items that were in her hands. “I made it back there last night, thinking maybe I could drive myself home, but I must have passed out in the front seat, and now there’s blood all over my steering wheel and… please come get me.” His voice cracked on the last line.

“Where are you?” she asked urgently.

“I… I don’t know.”

“Look for a street sign.” The line went quiet for a moment, and June used the chance to slip on her sneakers.

“Coal Ave and Carlisle Blvd,” he finally replied. She sighed in relief. That was only a few blocks away. She wouldn’t need to take her bike, which was good, because even if she did she’d have no way to attach it to the back of Emilio’s car. But as she thought of this she wondered--

“Why did you call me? I mean, I’m the only one who doesn’t have a car.”

“I… You live close, right? Just jog over, it’ll be fine.”

This didn’t really answer her question, but she figured it wasn’t that important right now. Calling Jesse or Sasha and waiting for them to get ready would probably take longer than if she just ran there herself. She reassured Emilio she’d be there soon before hanging up the phone and bolting out the door.

It was boiling out, and she immediately regretted wearing sweatpants. Using the street signs as a guide, she started running south at full speed. She’d done track in high school, and while her speed was impressive, her endurance was shit. By the time she made it to Coal and Carlisle she was out of breath, but to her immense relief, she spotted the blue Nissan Sentra parked in the shade of some abandoned office building. 

She made her way across the parking lot to the car and rapped on its window. Emilio looked up at her, catching the light, and she gasped. His face was beaten bloody and crusted over in places. His right eye was almost swollen shut. It seemed to take all the force in his body to push the car door open.

He coughed as he stumbled out. As hot as it was outside, it was probably even hotter in there. June caught him as he tripped, and put his arm over her shoulder, guiding him to the passenger side. Once he was in the car, she got in the driver’s seat and started blasting the air. 

“It’s gonna be alright. I’m gonna take you home, okay?” 

“No,” he protested weakly, putting a hand on the steering wheel. “My parents are there.”

“Okay.” She thought through her options again. A hospital was probably out of the question. “My home then.”

Her mother was a nurse, which meant she worked a lot of long hours. She was already gone when June woke up and probably wouldn’t be back until late that evening. With this in mind, and pulled out of the parking lot and drove North towards her street. A few minutes later, June was helping Emilio up the steps and trying to unlock the door with her free hand. He didn’t look like he could make it up a full flight of stairs, so she decided to lay him down on the same couch she’d had breakfast on, this time pulling the blinds firmly closed. 

“Thanks for getting me.” He smiled, then winced. She replied with a ‘mhm’, intently focused on the task at hand. She pulled out her phone and sent a quick text.

_4 Musketrs Group Chat_

_June: Come to my house now. Emilio got jumped._

Without waiting for a reply, she found a number on her phone Emilio had given her weeks ago. She pressed call and left him on the couch as she went searching for a first aid kit.

“What is it?” Domingo answered.

“Emilio got mugged last night. He’s at my house now, but he’s injured.”

“What? Shit!” He sighed over the phone. “Okay, I’m on my way. What’s your address?”

She recited it for him before he hung up. In the bathroom, under the sink, she found what she had been looking for. Washcloths, neosporin, and a plethora of bandaids. She gathered as many as she could and brought them back downstairs where Emilio was waiting, just as she’d left him. Dumping all her supplies on the coffee table, she knelt down next to him.

“I called Domingo. He’s on his way,” she told him gently. To her surprise, his eyes widened and he covered his bloodied face with his hands.

“He’s gonna be pissed,” he finally said, wiping a fleck of blood from his eyebrow.

“What? Emilio, he’s your family.”

He had no response to that, but he just shook his head, as if the situation was so much more complicated than she could ever understand. She decided not to push it. Domingo would probably be mad about losing so much product, but there was no way he could yell at Emilio now. Looking at him, curled up on her couch and covered in blood, it made her heart twinge with some powerful emotion halfway between fear and regret. If only she’d been with him… She tried not to think that way, and brought herself back to the present. Grabbing a washcloth, she ran it under warm water in the kitchen sink. Then, she helped Emilio sit up on the couch.

“This is gonna hurt a little, okay?”

“I can take it,” he reassured her.

She brought the washcloth up to his face, dabbing gently at the dried blood. He winced and curled his fingers around one of her throw pillows. 

“Sorry,” she muttered, trying to be even more careful. After a few minutes, the blood had mostly cleared and only the scabbing wounds remained. She was even gentler with them, knowing how easily they could reopen. “We’re almost done.”

Returning to the kitchen, she tossed the washcloth in the sink and rinsed the blood off her hands. She was about to grab the Neosporin when the doorbell rang. Thinking it must be Domingo she pulled the door open, but instead it was Jesse, standing there anxiously, ringing his palms. She opened the door wider to allow him in, when suddenly she noticed a biker tearing down the street. The loud roar drew Jesse’s attention too, and they both turned to see the biker screech to a stop in front of her house. Sasha pulled off her helmet, setting her pink hair free, and carelessly tossed both the helmet and the bike on the lawn.

“Where is he? Is he okay?” she asked.

“He’s in the living room,” June replied.

Her friends followed her back to the couch where Emilio was waiting. Jesse inhaled sharply at the sight.

“Damn, dude. You got hit pretty bad.”

“Tell me about it,” Emilio groaned. 

June sunk back into her place on the floor and twisted the cap off the Neosporin. Jesse flopped into the armchair next to Emilio’s couch and, since there were no more seats, Sasha perched next to Jesse on the arm. Trying to keep her hand steady, June began to rub the ointment onto Emilio’s cuts. He hissed but didn’t say anything. When she was finished, he gave her a grateful look, as if thanking her for her tenderness, and grabbed the box of bandaids. 

“I can do this part myself,” he declared, pulling out three of the biggest bandaids and slapping them on his face. “There. All done.” His friends sat in stunned silence for a minute before Sasha burst out laughing. Jesse followed next, and then June, and suddenly they were all giggling uncontrollably. 

“That’s.. That’s a good look on you, bro,” Jesse told him through laughter. 

Once the mood had died down, Sasha asked, “Now who do we have to beat up?”

Emilio thought for a second and sighed. “I’m not really sure. I didn’t get a good look at the guys, it all just happened so fast…” he trailed off. Clearly, the subject wasn’t something he wanted to talk about. Sasha bit her lip.

“Hey, I have an idea. What are you doing tomorrow?” she asked.

“What? Nothing.” he replied, confused.

“Let’s all meet at the gym tomorrow and practice some self-defense techniques.”

Emilio’s face flushed with embarrassment. “We don’t need to do that.” She gave him a look that said _Really?_ and he averted his eyes.

“Come on. My dad holds week-long self-defense camps every summer and forces the whole family to go. Just me, my parents, and my brothers at some sweaty lakehouse for a week. No AC either, just this old-ass fan that barely works. If I can get through that, you can do one day.”

June smiled at that. From what she’d witnessed, Sasha’s family was really passionate about self-defense. The collection of guns lining the walls of their house made that obvious. 

“Alright,” Emilio relented. “I’d rather learn it from you than your dad.” They chuckled again, only stopping when they heard a knock at the door. June rose to answer it, and this time it was Domingo. He was swaying back and forth on the balls of his feet. 

“He’s in the living room,” she said quietly, and led him there. When he stepped into the room, the mood seemed to shift. The smile faded from Emilio’s face.

“Sasha, why don’t you help me with something in the kitchen?” Jesse said, taking her by the wrist and pulling her out of the room. As soon as they were gone, Emilio started talking.

“I’m so sorry Mingo, I didn’t even hear them coming and then suddenly one guy is choking me out from behind and the other starts throwing punches… I tried to fight them off, I really did.” His voice cracked and his eyes began to water. For a moment, June felt guilty, like this was something she wasn’t meant to see, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave the room. Domingo looked him over silently, and she wondered what was going through his head. She watched him take note of the bandaids and the bruises on Emilio’s neck with that familiar guilty look in his eye, a look she’d come to associate with Domingo.

“How much did you lose?” he asked. Emilio looked up at him instantly, trying to keep the hurt out of his eyes. Maybe it was the word choice. _How much did_ **_you lose?_ **

“I, um, I had been at the clubs earlier, trying to sell coke, you know? But I didn’t sell it all, so I still had three eights on me. Then I thought I’d switch to the meth, but I’d just started selling and I still had… maybe 40 grams?”

Domingo swore under his breath. “Five hundred dollars in coke, and another thousand in meth. And the guys who jumped you, what did they look like?”

“I don’t know man, I barely even saw them.” He paused for a minute, racking his brain for anything useful. “They were tall, I guess, and muscular, not some skinny tweakers. And white, I think? At least the one who was hitting me.”

“Where was this?”

“Coal and Carlisle,” he answered. Domingo pulled out his phone, and the interrogation was over. “I’m really sorry--” he started again, but Domingo held up a hand to stop him. 

“I need to make a call. Maybe there’s a shot in hell I can still get some of it back.” 

And with that, he walked out of the room. The tension seemed to dissipate slowly, like helium leaking out of a balloon, but Emilio didn’t look relieved. June took a seat on the arm of the chair, where Sasha had been minutes ago.

“I’m sorry,” she offered. 

“It’s fine. I told you.”

She shook her head. “It’s not fine. That was lame.”

“Thanks for patching me up,” he changed the topic abruptly, and she had to laugh.

“A lot of thank you’s today, huh?” She slid off the chair and moved closer to him, placing her palm on his shoulder with a reassuring chip-toothed smile. “Anything for a friend.” He looked like he was going to reply, but she said something about needing to start dinner before leaving the room as well. Once she was in the hallway, she froze. Deep breaths, in and then out. One. Two. Three. Her father always said it was best to operate with a clear mind, and while she hated to listen to him, she did it more often than she liked to admit. Rather than going to the kitchen, she followed the sound of Domingo’s voice to the laundry room.

“Bring a couple of guys and come meet me.” She paused in the hall, listening as he prattled off her address. There was a click as he snapped his phone shut and sighed. 

“You're leaving?” He jumped, surprised at the sound of her voice.

“Well, yeah, I have to see if we can get any of the product back.” He explained this like it was obvious.

“Oh that’s cool, that makes sense. But you don’t have time to ask Emilio if he’s okay?” He flinched at her tone. “I mean holy shit, man. He just got the shit beat out of him and passed out in his car, bleeding, I mean, he could’ve died! And you wonder why I called you heartless?” With every subsequent criticism she took a step towards him, ripping him apart with her words until he was pressed against the washing machine and cornered like prey. “You said you would protect him.”

He looked down at his hands, ringing them and cracking the joints in every knuckle. Whether or not he was going to respond, she never found out, because at that moment she heard a honk from her driveway. His head snapped up. He pushed past her, out of the room and then the front door. She let him leave, feeling like all her fire had died out.

After that, she really did make dinner. She’d gotten a text from her mom saying she was working a night shift and asking her to make something from the fridge. Even that text was more apologetic than Domingo had been. The thought made her blood boil, so she redistributed that energy into making the best damn stir-fry her friends had ever had. The smell of it got Emilio out of his funk real quick.

Using the spatula, she dished out the stir fry into four bowls and took her place on the couch. She passed one to Emilio, sitting on her right, and to Sasha on her left. She gave her another to pass to Jesse, who sat on the ground by Sasha’s feet. Unfortunately, the couch only sat three people. Jesse set the bowl in his lap and grabbed the tv remote, picking a channel he knew Emilio would like. It was a pre-season soccer game, and Arsenal was playing Stevenage. For some reason Emilio really liked Arsenal, and now all four of them would watch the matches whenever they were on. They all cheered as the English team scored their second goal, and seeing Emilio smile brought June an inexplicable sense of relief. It was like none of this drug shit had even happened, and they were just hanging out like they did in high school. Sasha rested her head on June’s shoulder and they cuddled together as the match continued. 

By the time the game was over, it was nearly midnight. Arsenal had won 6-1, much to her friends’ delight. June heard the front door open and close, and she sat up straighter, preparing her death glare, if she had to use it. But when Domingo entered the living room, she could tell something was different. He paused by the entry and gave Emilio a sympathetic look.

“Hey. Feeling any better?”

Emilio looked surprised, but shook it off. “Yeah, I’m fine. Did you get the stuff?”

Domingo approached the couch hesitantly, but since there weren’t any places to sit he just crouched down next to Emilio. 

“We got the coke back. They didn’t even touch it, apparently.” He pulled a couple of baggies filled with white powder from his pocket and handed them to Emilio.

“What about the meth?” Emilio asked nervously.

“It was all gone when we got there. Those two guys were high out of their minds when we found them, but they couldn’t have done all 40 grams or they would be superheroes! Or super dead,” he joked.

“Shit, dude, that was a thousand dollars! What are we gonna do?” The stress of the previous afternoon flooded back onto Emilio’s face.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. Why don’t you just take a couple days off and sell the rest of the coke before Friday, okay? I’ll take care of the meth.” He gave Emilio a comforting smile, and received a weak nod in reply. “Alright, see you later.” After patting his cousin on the shoulder, he headed back out the front door. 

June got up and followed him, catching him just as he pulled open the driver’s side door. She wasn’t sure what to say, so she just said, “Thanks.” After a moment’s hesitation, he stepped away from the car and shut the door. 

“Yeah,” he nodded.

The awkwardness caught up with her as she realized she didn’t really have a reason to follow him out there. Without the motivation of her ire, she found herself at a loss for words. Looking at his beat up Toyota, she settled on a joke. “You said you’re not loaded, but you can pay a thousand dollars out of pocket? Damn.”

“I can’t.”

“Then why-?” She stopped. It wasn’t the right question. “What are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know yet,” he admitted. She didn’t have a response to that, so he turned and opened the car door again. He had just sat down in the driver’s seat when her fingers clasped the top of the door, stopping him from closing it. 

“Let me help you. I can help you.” There was a look of excitement on her face that made him anxious, yet he couldn’t help but ask.

“You can help me make a thousand dollars in less than a week?”

“Less than a day,” she corrected. “On one condition.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What’s that?”

“Sasha wants to teach Emilio some self-defense. We’re gonna meet at the gym tomorrow, so would you come?” 

He chuckled, perhaps imagining the pink-haired girl teaching his cousin to fight. “I’m sure Sasha has it all figured out. What do you need me for?”

She pondered his question. “You’ve been wrapped up in all this longer than he has. I’m sure you can help.”

“Two months longer,” he muttered, much to June’s surprise. _Domingo had only been dealing for two months?_ She didn’t voice her question, but eventually he relented. “Alright.”

“Thank you!” 

She stood there until he glanced at her fingers on the top of his car door, reminding her that he couldn’t close it without squishing them. She moved her hand quickly, and he shut the door, driving off into the night.

Since no one really wanted to sleep, they started a movie. The group decided on Men in Black, one of Jesse’s favorites. He grabbed some sticky notes from the kitchen to sketch the aliens, but his pen trailed off the paper as he dozed off halfway through. The rest of June’s friends weren’t faring much better, and they were all unconscious before the movie ended. She stopped the movie early, since she could recite the ending word for word, and tucked a throw pillow under each person’s head. Then she grabbed one for herself and stretched out across the couch, with her head in Sasha’s lap and her legs on Emilio’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the super long hiatus! I had a lot of setbacks to deal with, but the greatest one was my own self-doubt. However, I hope you liked the chapter. Things are just about to get exciting. 
> 
> And I also wanted to say thank you LadyKatie512 for all your support, and I'm sorry this chapter shares a plot point with And Saints. I was always planning on including a mugging, just to kind of get the ball rolling, but I took so long getting to it that now I feel like I'm ripping you off lol. If it bothers you I'm sure I could find some other way to put Emilio in danger.


	4. Cheez Whiz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June comes up with a clever way to help Domingo make up the lost cash.

The next day, they all met at the gym. Only Sasha, Emilio, and Domingo had memberships, but June and Jesse were allowed to tag-along as “plus ones”. They found a room in the back that had mats and boxing bags and decided to practice there. Sasha stood in the front of the room and pulled off her sweater to reveal a tanktop and sports bra. She bounced on the balls of her feet, ready for a fight, and gestured at Domingo to come stand near her.

“Okay, Emilio, you said you got choked from behind, right?” she asked and he nodded. “Like this?” She folded her elbow and clutched her wrist, mimicking how she would grasp his neck. 

“Yeah.” He shifted his eyes.

“Then let’s start with how to defend against that. Domingo, choke me.”

“What?” His eyes widened and June had to suppress a snort.

“You heard me. Just--” She mimed the motion again. 

Cautiously, he moved to stand behind her and put his arm around her throat. Although Sasha was the one in a chokehold, he looked more nervous than she did. His grip was excessively loose and she rolled her eyes, though Domingo couldn’t see it.

“Okay,” she continued the lesson. “When he’s got you like this, you want to step forward with your left foot, and then bring your right foot behind you, kind of like you’re doing the grapevine.” She did the action as she spoke. “Then you twist until you're facing them--” her voice became muffled as she was now speaking into Domingo’s chest, “--and push away.” Sasha shoved against Domingo’s chest and he released her, stumbling back a few steps. “Now you try.”

Jesse pulled Emilio into a chokehold, though it quickly became a noogie. He panicked for a moment, no doubt remembering his encounter with the muggers, but he stepped, twisted, and pushed Jesse away. 

“Good!” Sasha smiled. She realized June didn’t have a partner, so she wrapped her arm around June’s neck to give her the chance to practice. June followed Sasha’s instructions but was surprised to find it only made the chokehold tighter. She gasped and sputtered.

“See why this didn’t work?” Sasha called to the group. “Cause I’m using my left-arm, not my right. So June, you need to step with your right foot and bring your left foot behind.” June tried to reverse her movements and shoved Sasha off her forcefully, gasping for air. The pink-haired girl just laughed and gave her a thumbs up. 

“But what if they try and choke you from the front?” Jesse asked, half-raising his hand like they were in school.

“Good question. Domingo?” She gave him a grin, and he reluctantly placed both hands around her neck. “What you want to do here is bring your arms inside his chokehold and push his arms apart.” Slipping her arms inside his grasp, she slammed her forearms into his, breaking his grip. “Then, push away,” she said, shoving his chest once again.

They paired up again, this time with Emilio in Sasha’s trained grip. June attempted the move against Domingo, shivering a little when he put his hands around her neck. Then it was her turn to attack. She tightened her hands around his throat, and he smiled as if he knew something she didn’t. Raising his arms, he broke her grip, but then went a step further. He clutched the back of her head, pulling it down, and brought his knee up to her abdomen, miming a strike. He barely touched her, but she felt all the air leave her lungs in a reaction of pure terror.

“Woah,” Sasha said. The room was quiet except for June’s heavy breathing.

“Why does everyone have to try their experimental shit on me…” she groaned.

“That wasn’t experimental,” Domingo said. “That’s a tried and tested method, amiga.”

_ Amiga? _ They were friends now, she supposed. It was weird, thinking of him without hostility. A month ago he’d been a stranger, a face she saw occasionally at Emilio’s family gatherings. An acquaintance she’d smoked a joint with in a rare moment of bliss. Then she hated him, both for putting Emilio in danger and for being someone so different than he’d first appeared. But that judgment was too hasty. She realized that last night, when he was willing to take a thousand dollar fall for Emilio. What if the gentleness she initially saw in him wasn’t an illusion, but a real part of him trapped beneath the surface? Was his hard outer shell an act too, just like one of her cons? And if it was, how much of it was real? There was so much she didn’t know, but she knew enough not to wager a guess.

They did a few more exercises before deciding to call it quits. June had begun to sweat and she dabbed her forehead on her shirt. As they all headed toward the exit she saw Domingo put an arm over Emilio's shoulder, banging his head against his cousin’s affectionately. Emilio laughed and stumbled back, rubbing his head. A warm feeling filled June’s stomach and she smiled, linking arms with Sasha as they stepped out the doors.

June had woken up early Thursday morning, much earlier than usual. She’d had a long list of tasks to do before the upcoming day, but now that they were over she ran through the plan again in her head. It was a scheme she’d thought up last night, and she’d spent many sleepless hours combing through the details, trying to predict any possible setbacks. A small creature lay sleeping in her lap and she ran a finger over it, gently combing through its fur. A knock on her door drew her attention and she called, “About time!”

She listened as Domingo shut the door and kicked off his shoes. He followed her voice to the living room and sat in the armchair next to the couch, leaning closer to examine whatever she was holding. She raised the object up into the light, holding up a fat white mouse proudly like it was a Christmas present. 

He raised his eyebrows. “What’s the mouse for?”

“Wanna hold her?” She asked enthusiastically, getting off the couch and holding the rodent above his lap. He recoiled slightly.

“It doesn’t have any diseases, does it?”

June rolled her eyes. “ _ She _ does not. And you better get used to holding her, because she’s about to become your new best friend.” With that, she plopped the mouse in his lap. He flinched before cautiously lowering his hands to pick it up. He examined the large rodent, probably assessing if it really was clean, before asking, “What do we need a mouse for?”

“The con, of course. She’s our star actress.” She gave the creature a loving look before continuing to explain. “This is Cheez Whiz. I borrowed her from Jesse’s friend Combo.”

“Her name is Cheez Whiz?” he chortled. 

“Yes,” June replied indignantly, as if offended on the mouse’s behalf. “Isn’t she adorable?” she cooed. “All she does is eat and sleep, so Combo didn’t mind us borrowing her. But today she’s gonna help us terrorize some wealthy white women.” 

“Okay,” he laughed again. “And how are we gonna do that?” She explained her plan briefly before tossing him a shirt. It was brown with long sleeves and had a patch on the breast she’d ironed on that morning.

“Antonio’s Pest Control?” he read. “Is this real?”

“No, I made it this morning. You’re Antonio, remember? And I am…?” She prompted.

“My cousin Macy.”

“Perfect! So we’re ready to go.” She got off the couch again and collected the mouse from his hands, putting her safely in the fanny pack on her waist. It had a mesh top that allowed Cheez Whiz to breathe, and she quickly began snoring.

“Wait, how do you know this will work?” he stopped her. “What if something goes wrong?”

“I’ve planned for every possibility I can think of. So theoretically, everything should go smoothly.”

“Theoretically?” He winced.

“Nothing’s definite with a con. I hope you think quick on your feet.” She gave him a half-smile, which he nervously returned.

They drove to their first destination in silence. A familiar sensation was settling into her skin, the jittery pre-con feeling she could only compare to a sugar high. She closed her eyes and let the feeling take over until they rolled to a stop. 

“Is this okay?” Domingo asked, parking at the curb about a block from the store.

“Yep.” She got out of the car and started walking but stopped after a few steps to flash him a thumbs up. If he knew how nervous she felt, it would make him nervous too, and then this whole thing would go wrong. She walked until his car was out of view and finally stopped in front of a small fashion boutique. It had long windows that brightened up the whole store, allowing light to dance off the shiny fabrics on the mannequins. The walls were painted white and stretched all the way up to the high ceiling, giving the place an aerial feeling. She took a couple of deep breaths. One. Two. Three. When she opened the door, she had her head in the game.

There was a beach-themed display near the entrance and “Macy” was instantly drawn to it. June figured a girl like Macy probably had pool parties, and maybe she needed a new swimsuit for the summer. She ran her fingers over the fabrics, sorting through the racks until she found the perfect one. It was a white bikini with blue polka dots, but the reason it was perfect was that it didn’t seem to come in a medium. Tucking the swimsuit under her arm, she approached the woman at the counter. 

She was a blonde woman who actually looked quite a bit like June, if June were older and wore only high fashion. June had made the effort today, with a silk blouse and skirt, though the fanny pack kind of ruined the illusion. Still, she set the bathing suit on the counter and asked, “Do you have this in a medium?” 

“I’m sorry, what we have on the rack is all that’s available,” the woman replied.

“Oh,” said June, her face softening into an expression of sadness. “I really liked this one.”

“We have many others to choose from,” the woman said, seeing her disappointment. “I’m sure you’ll find something.”

“It’s just… I’m having a pool party this weekend, and the boy I like is gonna come, and I wanted to look cute, is all.”

The woman looked her over and gave June a gentle smile. “Why don’t you take a look at some of the green ones? They would look lovely with your eyes.”

“Okay,” June said, brightening. “Thanks for the suggestion. My name’s Macy, by the way.” She extended her hand and the woman shook it. June made sure to look her in the eyes. Although it was just a small gesture, this emotional connection was the most crucial part. Everything that followed relied on the relationship built in this moment.

June returned to the rack and quickly picked a green bikini, making sure the woman saw her as she made her way to the dressing room. She picked a stall at the end and locked the door. These dressing rooms were classy; the doors went all the way down to the floor and each one felt like its own room. She pulled the sleeping mouse out of her fanny pack and laid her down on the little bench.

“Please don’t go anywhere,” she whispered to the mouse, and then opened the door screaming.

“There are MICE in the dressing room!” she screeched. A few more women stumbled out of the dressing room, looking around at each other and the floor. The customers still shopping paused to watch the commotion. She approached the counter, willing her hands to shake, and gave the woman a disgusted look.

“Everyone stay calm,” the woman shouted above the chaos. A few customers headed for the door so she added, “Anything you buy today is 15 percent off! I will handle the mouse problem momentarily.” She shuddered as she said ‘mouse problem’ and pulled a Yellow Pages out of her desk. June put a hand on the counter.

“I’m sorry for freaking out like that. I didn’t mean to make a scene, it’s just that mice are so gross.” The woman glared at her, probably thinking of the lost business, but then softened her gaze. 

“It’s alright, I’m gonna take care of it. I just don’t want to shell out 500 dollars for an exterminator,” she sighed.

“Oh!” June’s eyes widened, as if the idea had just occurred to her. “My cousin’s an exterminator, I could call him?”

The woman seemed hesitant, her eyes still flicking back to the Yellow Pages, so June leaned closer as if she was about to tell her a secret.

“I bet  _ Antonio  _ would do it for a lot cheaper than anyone in that book, as long as you pay in cash, y’know? Off the record.” The woman’s eyes widened and she nodded in surreptitious understanding.

“Thank god for the Mexicans…” she muttered and gave June a wave of her hand, telling her to call him.

A few minutes later, Domingo’s car pulled up in front of the boutique. He came in, all decked out in his Pest Control shirt, gloves, and even a backpack, and gave the woman behind the counter a nod.

“Don’t worry ladies,” he said to the other customers. “I’ll take care of the rodent problem.” June suppressed a giggle. She hadn’t told him to do that. 

She followed him back to the dressing room, still faking fear and distress, and watched as he inspected every stall. He pulled an aerosol can from his backpack, which June knew was just hairspray with the label removed, and sprayed it in every stall. When he got to the last one, he picked up the still sleeping mouse and carried it out of the room. He held it in his hand as he addressed the woman. 

“I didn’t find a nest, so there likely aren’t any more mice in the building, but I sprayed the stalls with rodent deterrent just in case.”

“Heavens,” she murmured. “Is that dangerous to inhale?”

He scratched his chin as he thought about it for a moment. “I’d recommend keeping customers out of there for about 6 hours. The substance has been known to cause some minor health problems.”

The woman nodded gratefully and opened the register. “How much do I owe you?”

“Three-hundred dollars,” Domingo replied, just as planned. She counted out the money and handed it to him without complaint. As he took it, June could tell he was fighting off a smile.

“Thank you,” he took the money and walked out. June lingered for a few more minutes, pretending to look at bathing suits, but walked out as soon as the woman’s head was turned. She practically skipped down the block to their original starting point, where he’d driven back to after he left. He was resting against the car with the widest grin on his face. She ran the rest of the way up to him as he waved her over with a handful of bills, and as soon as she got close he picked her up in a bone-crushing hug. 

“We did it!” he spun her around and set her back on the ground. He pulled back and she looked at the ground, suddenly uncomfortable. The high of the successful con had her heart racing, and she knew he must have felt the same way, but the affectionate gesture took her by surprise. He coughed. He looked just as uncomfortable as she was. 

“Just a couple more to go,” she added, trying to fill the silence. He folded the bills and put them in his wallet, his excitement replaced with a hard stare and a slight burn on his cheeks. He got back in his car and popped the passenger’s side open for June. 

The second con didn’t go quite as smoothly. June had chosen a strange mark: a woman in her late 60s, who presumably had spent a large part of her inheritance opening an antique shop. As she perused the aisles of odd trinkets, June wasn’t sure what exactly Macy would have in common with this woman and decided her persona needed some tweaking. She approached the small desk and folding chair where the woman sat and was met with the heavy scent of perfume.

“Hi. I have to make a documentary for my film class and I wanted to find some unusual objects to include in the film. Do you have any suggestions?”

The woman looked her up and down and closed her magazine. “Aren’t you guys out for the summer?”

“Uh.. I signed up for the summer semester,” she replied uncertainly.

The woman opened her magazine again, pulled a pencil out from behind her ear, and went back to circling things. “Oh, a college student.”

June peered closer to try and see what kind of catalogue she was looking at. She glimpsed a few pictures of antique dolls, but as she leaned closer the woman snapped the magazine shut. “I don’t have any suggestions. Go look around.”

“My grandma had dolls like those. The ones with ball joints, right?” She glanced at the shelves above the woman’s head, where a row of dolls sat. With newfound confidence, she continued her lie. “She passed away last spring and left a few to me, but I’m not really sure what to do with them. Do you think I should bring them in? You would probably appreciate them more than I would.”

The woman’s eyes seemed to light up. “I’m sorry to hear about your grandmother. But yes, why don’t you bring them in. I’m sure we can work out a fair price.”

“Awesome,” she smiled. “She also left some Hummel figurines to my cousin Antonio, I don’t know if you collect those?”

The woman nodded. “Well, I’m lucky I met you…”

“Macy,” June finished.

“Macy. I’m Greta. Now that I think about it, I might have a few ideas for your documentary.”

“Oh great, I’d love to hear them!” June beamed. “But, could you excuse me for a second? I have to go to the bathroom.”

Greta pointed her down the hall and June left the sleeping mouse in the corner of the little room, just as planned. But what she didn’t plan for was the woman’s reaction. As she ran screaming down the hall, Greta merely smiled and said, “That’s what dear Elizabeth is for.” Out from behind the desk slinked a mangy red cat with yellow eyes. “Come on Lizzy, there’s a snack for you in the bathroom,” she coaxed.

“No!” June said, moving to block her path down the hall. Greta narrowed her eyes. “It’s just… What if there are more? I’m sure Lizzy is a very capable cat, but even the fiercest kitties can’t catch three mice at a time. She’ll scare them away. Maybe you should call an exterminator.”

Greta paused, considering this. “Nah,” she ultimately decided. “They’re all too expensive.”

“Not my cousin! Antonio, remember? He doesn’t charge very much, and I’m sure he’ll be happy to talk with you about the figurines while he’s here.” June held her breath as the woman pondered her offer. If she accidentally killed Cheez Whiz, Combo would never forgive her. The woman gave her a skeptical look, but the appeal of the Hummel figurines was too great.

“Alright, call him. But I’m not paying anything over 250.” June’s breath hitched, but she dialed the number anyways. They would make up the money somehow. 

A few minutes later Domingo showed up with his backpack and rubber gloves. He politely asked Greta where the mouse was, and June tried to think of a way to warn him about the figurines, but he disappeared down the hall before she got the chance. He held the mouse in his palm as Greta counted out the money.

“Here you go, two-fifty.” 

He looked to June in surprise. “My typical going rate is 300.” 

“One mouse. Two-fifty,” she shrugged. “Now, your cousin here tells me you have some Hummels that you’re looking to sell?” She looked back to the cash register for a second, and Domingo mouthed ‘What’s a Hummel?’

“Yeah, remember Antonio? You wanted to sell those  _ figurines  _ Grandma left you when she died?”

“Oh that’s right. Grandma’s death has been super hard on us, especially since my business isn’t doing so well…” He glanced down at the money in his hand, and Greta huffed.

“Okay, I see how it is. I’ll give you the extra fifty as long as you bring in the Hummels by this weekend and don’t show them to anyone else.”

Domingo faked a look of curiosity. “Why? Are they worth a lot?” June stepped on his toe, a silent signal not to be too ambitious.

“They aren’t worth dirt!” The woman responded, a little too quickly. “Luckily for you, I collect them.”

“Alright, I won’t show them to anyone else,” he promised, holding out his hand. Greta reluctantly forked over the rest of the money, and the two of them were preparing to leave when Lizzy decided she’d rather not give up her midday snack. The cat lunged at Domingo’s open palm, and Cheez Whiz, finally awake, leapt from his hand in fear. Shoving the money in his pocket, Domingo bolted after the mouse as it scurried out the half-open door. June gave the woman one last nervous smile and tore after them. 

The mouse continued fleeing long after the cat had given up the chase. They followed it block after block, almost getting run over by some impatient drivers in the process. Domingo finally cornered it outside Pizza Italiano and the mouse scurried under a nearby vending machine. June caught up with them a minute later, thoroughly out of breath. Reaching into the crack under the vending machine, Domingo tried to grab the mouse but pulled back, swearing as Cheez Whiz promptly bit his finger. 

“Shit.” He slammed his palm against the vending machine. It shook slightly, and Cheez Whiz retreated further under it.

“Okay,” June said, finally regaining her breath. “Maybe we can lure her out.”

“With what?” he asked.

“I think Combo named her Cheez Whiz ‘cause she really likes the stuff. Are there any cheesy crackers in there?” He stood up to check and she took his place kneeling beside the vending machine.

“No. Do peanut butter crackers work?” 

“Probably.”

Domingo took a dollar from his pocket and fed it into the slot, pressing buttons until June heard a thunk by her head. She reached in and opened the bag, grabbing a cracker and crushing it between her fingers. The peanut butter made her fingers sticky and she hoped Cheez Whiz could smell it. She scattered bits of the cracker on the pavement outside the machine, and then tossed a few closer to the mouse. Standing above her, Domingo waited in anticipation. 

The mouse sniffed the crumbs and came scurrying closer to the edge of the machine. She paused for a minute, gobbling up the last crumb in her reach, and then darted out into the light. Immediately, Domingo pounced.

“Ha!” he said to the mouse, grabbing her in his palm. June couldn’t help from giggling.

After that, she bought a package of Skittles from the vending machine and they ate them in his car. It was no replacement for lunch, but they were on a roll and they couldn’t stop now. He seemed to dislike the grape ones, something about “artificial grape”, so she ate all of those and in return passed him all of her strawberries.

“How can you not like strawberry?” he asked. “Those are the best ones.”

“Ew,” she stuck her finger in her mouth and pretended to gag.

“Okay, artificial grape,” he said, rolling his eyes.

The next con went perfectly. Their mark was the owner of a fancy bakery, and both she and her customers were mortified at the sight of a mouse near the frosting display. She gave them 300 dollars easily. They sat in his car again as Domingo counted out the 900 dollars they’d made so far.

“Do we really have to do this again?” he asked. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, that last shop was a piece of cake.” He paused to grin at her and June grimaced at his terrible pun. “But this is exhausting. I don’t know how you do it.” 

“Yeah, it’s fun at the start but it gets stressful after a while. You can only keep up a facade for so long.” At that moment, her stomach decided to let out a loud growl. “Oh, and I’m getting hungry.” She flushed. 

“Should we do the last con now, or take a break for lunch?” 

“Actually, that was our last con.”

“What do you mean?” he asked. “We still need a hundred dollars.”

June pulled her wallet out of the pocket of her skirt and handed him two fifty-dollar bills. “Good?”

He hesitantly took the money, looking it over. “You’re just giving this to me?”

“Well, don’t feel too grateful. You can thank your friend Blingy for that.”

He laughed. “No way. You conned him too?” 

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” she responded, although Sasha’s need for milkshakes wasn’t exactly ‘desperate’. Domingo wrung his hands, seemingly deliberating whether or not to ask his next question.

“So that night at the bowling alley, when you told me to keep Blingy in check, how did you know what he said to me? Were you stalking me or something?” He laughed, as if the mere idea was ridiculous, but still looked at her expectantly. 

“I followed you, but only because I was worried about Emilio. I wanted to make sure he was safe.” She bit her tongue at the half-truth, hard enough to draw blood. She was worried about Emilio, that much was true, but she didn’t know he was working for Domingo until  _ after  _ she showed up at his work. An uncomfortable feeling of guilt settled into the pit of her stomach. 

“You’re a good friend,” he replied.  _ Am I? All I do is lie.  _

But she muttered back an ‘mhm’ and let him drop her off in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry for the delay in posting this. I haven't committed to an upload schedule because I know I'd never keep it. But what I've been doing in the meantime is creating an outline for the rest of this story. I have a bunch of sticky notes on a poster board, and while I suck at planning ahead, I've realized I really can't keep flying by the seat of my pants. This was supposed to be a lighthearted chapter so I hope you liked it, because the next chapter's gonna get a little depressing.
> 
> Oh, and this story just passed over 100 hits! Thank you so much, I honestly thought no one would ever read it.


	5. Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After completing several cons with Domingo, June reflects on her relationships with her parents.

As soon as June got home, she raided the fridge. The churning, guilty feeling in her stomach was only made worse by hunger, and the skittles she ate earlier had left a sour taste in her mouth. Her first thought was to make a sandwich. She pulled out bread and jam, but the peanut butter was too slow to spread, so she ended up just shoving pieces of plain bread in her mouth, crusts and all. There was a loud slam as metal hit the floor, and she jumped.  _ What? _ She stared down at the knife she had used to spread the peanut butter. Somehow, it had slipped through her shaking hands. 

She picked up the knife, carefully this time, and placed it in the sink. Sandwiches weren’t the answer. June left the mess in the kitchen and went up the stairs to her bedroom, crouching in front of her bookshelf and pulling out a notebook. It had a smooth red cover with a cross on the front; a gift from her grandma before she passed. The old woman probably expected she’d use it as a therapeutic diary, and in a way she had. She flipped through the book, page after page of guilty statements catching her eyes and clawing at her heart. The pages at the beginning were completely filled, the pencil smeared with the sheer volume of scribbled words. Towards the middle of the book there were fewer entries, or entries of sloppily-written sentences that didn’t even make sense. Then the notebook gradually started filling in again, though not to the extent it had at the start. She found her last entry and wrote a few words underneath it.

_ I lied to Domingo about why I was at Tampico. _

The uneasy feeling in her stomach started to dissipate, and she sighed with relief. One more confession made. 

It was only two-thirty, according to the clock by her bed. She skimmed through her book of confessions idly. The very first page had entries from when she was ten, just weeks after her dad was arrested. Half the words were misspelled, but the pages were full; every lie, every half-truth, and every omission. Middle school was much of the same, but with better spelling. It wasn’t until high school that her entries became less frequent. She had stopped writing down every lie, just the ones she felt guilty about. Most of them didn’t even make sense, or she had no memory of writing them. She turned the page on that dark chapter of her life. Her last two years of high school were alright, though her confessions were still few and far between. She reached the end of the notebook again and sighed. 

June stowed the notebook in her bookshelf again and stretched out on her bed. Her day had been filled with excitement, and honestly, it was the happiest she’d felt in a while. There was something about playing a part and stepping out of her own body which brought her a great sense of relief. For a few hours, she’d relinquished her identity and all the worries and problems that came with it. With no other plans for the afternoon, she opened her phone and sent a text to Sasha.

_ Direct Messages — Sasha _

_ June: Wanna hang? _

A minute later, she got a response.

_ Direct Messages — Sasha _

_ Sasha: Can’t. Have to pack & prep the trailer, Dad is taking us camping for father’s day weekend. _

Reading Sasha’s reply, June felt like her throat was closing up. Father’s Day was right around the corner and she’d had no idea. She sent back an “okay” and flipped her phone shut. As she stared at the ceiling, she vaguely wondered what her own father was doing.  _ Should I visit? _ She thought about it for a moment.  _ No, I wouldn’t even know what to say. _ Pulling herself off her bed, she grabbed the CD player in the corner of her room and popped a disk in. Relaxing classical music filled the room and she immersed herself in her blankets again, allowing herself to drift off into thoughtless peace for a few hours.

Her sleep was interrupted by a knock at the door. “Honey,” a voice called, and as June rubbed her eyes she saw her door open, her mother stepping into the room. “I’m making dinner-- oh. Were you sleeping?”

“Yeah,” she muttered back.

“It’s almost six! Come with me to the kitchen, I’m making salad and there’s pizza in the oven.”

June dragged herself out of bed, following her mother’s receding figure. She stopped at the door and bent down, turning off the never-ending stream of classical music. Although her mother was already at the base of the stairs, she quickly ducked into the bathroom at the end of the hall and examined her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes had tired purple bags beneath them, and her hair was a ragged mess. Disregarding the eyes, she stuck her hand under the faucet, wetting her palm, and smoothed it over the unruly parts of her hair.

“June!” her mother called, in a voice laced with annoyance. She decided that would have to do and hurried down the stairs. 

“Finally,” her mom said, as June sat on one of the stools in front of the kitchen. “Don’t get too comfortable there, I need you to help me chop this tomato.” She pushed a tomato, cutting board, and knife across the counter towards her daughter. June took the knife uncertainly and started cutting. 

“So… You’re home early,” June said in an attempt to make small talk.

“I took a night shift last night, and I just didn’t have it in me to do another one,” the woman replied, turning to look at her. Her eyes widened as she saw how her daughter was cutting. “Oh my god it’s a tomato, not a woodshop project. What are you doing?”

She took the knife from June’s hand and gently pushed her out of the way. “Like this. Watch.” The younger girl watched as her mother cut the stem out of the tomato and then sliced it in half with a clean chop. “Do you think you can do that?”

She nodded and took the knife again, but no sooner had she positioned it above the tomato when it was confiscated from her hands again. “You’re gonna cut your fingers off if you do it that way.” Her mom began chopping the tomato more swiftly, and June took that as her cue to back off. She didn’t really need June’s help anyway.

“Why are you so dressed up today?” her mom asked, once she’d finished chopping the tomato. June looked down at her clothes, realizing she was still wearing the same blouse and pencil skirt from earlier today. 

“I just… felt like dressing up today.”

Her mother narrowed her eyes. “Did you have a date? Or a job interview? What were you doing today?”

“No, I was just hanging out with a friend.”

“Really? Who?” she persisted. “‘Cause none of your friends dress like that.” 

“You don’t know him. What about you, how was work today?” June tried to change the subject, desperate to get the heat off her. Her mother just raised an eyebrow.

“It was fine. We had a couple of kids come in today, all beat up from a fight of some sort. It’s a shame what kids get up to these days.” 

June nodded uncomfortably. Her mother looked rather young herself, with her perfect eyeliner and hair that always stayed in place, even after long shifts in the hospital. A ‘ding’ sounded from the oven, letting them know the pizza was done.

“Go wash up,” her mother told her, pulling on an oven mitt and opening the oven. June didn’t need to be told twice. She walked down the hall towards the bathroom and locked the door as soon as she was inside. Locked doors were always comforting to her. When her door was locked, she could pretend the rest of the house didn’t exist, let alone the rest of the world. The room was in a universe of its own, unable to be accessed from the outside, and if she opened the door, all she’d see was the starry cosmos. Maybe it didn’t make a lot of sense, but the privacy was a nice respite, even for just a moment. She splashed some water on her face and then washed her hands. By the time she returned to the kitchen, the dining room table was set with a plate for each of them.

She took her spot next to her mother and thanked her for the meal. The woman nodded in response and they began to eat. 

“Sorry I haven’t made you dinner in a while,” her mom offered.

“It’s alright. Good pizza, by the way.”

“Thanks. What do you usually make when I’m not here?” she asked.

“Stir-fry. Or mac and cheese. Sometimes just a sandwich.” She shrugged.

“Oh,” her mom replied, taking a bite of her pizza. She hesitated before adding, “I’m so proud of you June. I see a lot of kids at work who are messing up their lives, and I’m so glad you’re past that phase. It’s nice not having to worry about you anymore.” 

Her mom gave her a small smile and June nodded in response, averting her eyes to stare down at her plate. The feeling of guilt from earlier was resurfacing, curbing her appetite.  _ This is definitely going in the notebook, _ she thought. She looked back up to find that her mom was still smiling. Her clear blue eyes seemed to twinkle when she smiled, softening the rest of her sharp features. Despite all their disagreements, June always liked it when her mom smiled. She hoped she could keep her smiling.

But the dinner went on as usual, and she replied to her mom’s endless flow of questions with prepared half-truths of her own. She tried to respond as honestly as she could and she continued to shovel food in her mouth, although her appetite had left her. Her mom must have sensed that something was wrong, because she narrowed her eyes again.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“Yes,” June lied.

“So you’d tell me if something was bothering you? You wouldn’t keep it from me?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Good. So I don’t have to remind you of my promise.” She dabbed at her mouth with her napkin. Business was settled.

“May I be excused?” June asked. 

“Sure. Put your dishes in the sink.”

June stood and rinsed her dishes in the sink before setting them down carefully. Her mother said nothing as she made her way to the stairs. Once she reached her room, June locked the door and laid down on the bed, running a hand over her face. At last, she was alone.

She let the guarded smile slip off her face. The reminder of her mother’s promise still hurt, even after all this time. It was something she’d said years ago, in a moment of anger, but June had to believe she meant it. If not, why would she still bring it up? As June thought about that night, the memories became painfully clear.

All she had to do was get to her room without waking her mother. She’d already made it past the front door, having snagged a key before she left for the night. The rambunctious, joyous, post-football championship night she wasn’t supposed to have until she raised her grades.

She scoffed. She was only a sophomore. Grades didn’t start to matter until junior year, and even then as long as she showed “improvement”, it would be fine. She would just sell them the story of the damaged girl whose father was in prison. 

She made it to the stairs without issue, keeping one hand on the railing and one on her half-filled bottle as she started to climb. This is where the real trouble began. Her room was at the very end of the hall, past dozens of creaky floorboards that she desperately tried to avoid. The bottle shook in her hand as she swayed, shuffling around the creaky spots like a miserable, drunk seal. When she finally made it to her bedroom, she sighed in relief. A gloating smile overtook her face. She set the beer bottle down on her bedside table and emptied her pockets, pulling out handfuls of crumpled bills and throwing them up in the air. They drifted down and landed scattered on her bed. She smiled triumphantly as she dove into the pile, rolling around in the cash. Vaguely she could hear her phone ringing, but her intoxicated mind didn’t think to answer it. In fact, she couldn’t think at all. Every thought in her brain flitted around, barely coherent, until she drifted off into a deep sleep.

She awoke to the slamming of a door. Her door. Groggily, she rubbed her eyes. She was still in her room, and the uncomfortable crinkling paper beneath her was... _ money?  _ Her mother stood in the doorway, still in a nightgown with a scowl on her face.

“Where were you?” she demanded.

“Out,” June replied.

“Out? At that party I told you not to go to?”

“No, Mother. Neverrrrrrrr.” She reached blindly for the half-finished beer on her bedside table, and took a swig. Her mother snatched it from her hand instantly and set it back down, though she did not let go of June’s hand. Instead she tightened her grip, crushing June’s fingers, and asked the question again.

“Where were you?”

“I was at the party.”

Her mother nodded, relinquishing her hand. “Where did all this money come from?”

“Giving blowjobs to football players,” June lied. Her mother narrowed her eyes, and June quickly changed her answer. Though her mother would probably prefer the lie, she decided to come clean. “I sold a bunch of tic tacs to kids drunk enough to think they were pain meds.”

“Just like him,” she muttered under her breath. Her mother had nothing more to say, so June fumbled to fill the silence.

“I’m doing them a favor, when you think about it. You can’t get addicted to tic tacs.” But her mother wasn’t listening. Instead, she was scooping all the money off the bed. Before June realized what was happening, her mother pushed open her window and scattered the money down on the sidewalk below.

“What —HEY!” June ran over to the window, then stopped. The bills were already out of reach.

“The hobos will pick it up. Maybe they can buy some more meth with it.” Her mother shrugged. She turned towards June again. “This is the end of the line. No more drinking and no more parties, because I am  _ done  _ putting up with it. And if you ever,  _ ever  _ lie to me again, you can take your shit and walk right out the door because you won’t be welcome in my house again.”

Her mother stared down at her with a cold, impassive expression. June’s eyes started to burn. She could feel her throat closing up, like she was choking on the rage she kept shoving beneath the surface. Maybe it was the alcohol, but her emotions seemed to stack higher and higher until she broke into a sob.

“You want honesty? You’re the reason I don’t have a dad!”

She wiped her face with her palms, trying desperately to hide her tears, and to not look as pathetic as she felt. She looked up just in time to see her mother give her one last judging glare as she left the room. June buried her face in her pillow, the tears coming harder.

Alone in her room, she was startled back to reality when she felt her phone buzz in the pocket of her skirt. She peeled herself off her pillowcase, stopping to notice that it was damp too. Had she been crying? She sighed, opening her phone to read the new message.

_ Direct Messages — Domingo _

_ Domingo: Hey, I realized I never thanked you for helping me make up that money. So, thank you. I don’t know what I would’ve done without your help. _

As she read the message, another appeared on screen.

_ Direct Messages — Domingo _

_ Domingo: Today was fun. We should do it again sometime, if you want. _

She paused for a minute, considering the tears on her pillow, and her mother’s promise. She had tried to be honest. She had tried to turn her life around. But maybe there was too much of her father in her. As much as she tried, she couldn’t picture a life without the grift. Her notebook of confessions was proof of that. She typed out a reply, throwing caution to the wind.

_ Direct Messages — Domingo _

_ June: Sounds like a plan :) _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update was kinda short and had minimal Domingo, I'm sorry... But hopefully this provided some clarification on why June is so hesitant to lie. A con artist who's afraid to lie, imagine that. It sounds like a bad joke lol
> 
> I'm kind of nervous to post this chapter cause it's not very fun. The next chapter will be more exciting I promise. (Haha, promise. Like the title.) And it'll be the first chapter from Domingo's perspective :)
> 
> Also, I'm gonna go back and add summaries for each chapter. It always felt kinda weird not having them. Let me know what you thought of this chapter! I'd love to hear your feedback.


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